


Again

by PinkRangerV



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark, M/M, Torture, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 20:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3502241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkRangerV/pseuds/PinkRangerV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naomi decides Castiel needs to unlearn his love for the Winchesters. One is simpler than the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liron_aria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liron_aria/gifts).



> So I'm just gonna be straight-up writing torture porn for a few hours, ignore me if you don't like it.

To unlearn took blood.

 

Blood was the first, the last, the eternal. God was best pleased by sacrifice, and blood was sacrifice--a scar, a wound, a death, all irreversible sacrifice. It was the first prayer of angel and human alike; it would someday be their last, whispered from dying, broken bodies.

 

And Castiel had sinned greatly.

 

To unlearn his love for the Righteous Man was simple. Then he only had to kill. Over and over and over, blood and blood and blood, and unlearn with every motion that Dean was a friend or an ally or anything but a human who had overstepped his bounds, who had defied the mandate of Heaven. Friendship and companionship and even the confusing, upsetting parts where Dean would scream and yell and not explain why, they all fell to a simple blade.

 

Naomi was pleased. God was pleased. Castiel was repenting.

 

But it was time to unlearn another love, and this was a simpler one. Castiel could remember Dean’s strange anger sometimes, the way he would never be good enough for Dean, he wasn’t a good enough angel or a good enough human, and that made it easier to unlearn, because it was a flawed human judging an angel, what right had he--

 

This was different.

 

This was a tall, powerful man made broken and weak, chained from the ceiling and shackled so he couldn’t kick, his eyes closed shut tight and body shaking as if he were really the man who had been trapped with two archangels and tortured for five thousand years. Even his soul looked the same; bright and shining and beautiful, but cracked and re-melded in a way that made Castiel think of kintsukuori, Japanese broken and remade pottery.

 

This was Sam Winchester.

 

Naomi pressed Castiel’s blade into his hand.

 

“Break him.”

 

***

 

Sam opened his eyes.

 

Cas. Cas was standing there, blinking the way he did when he was confused, like he didn’t understand what the angel--Naomi, Sam had heard someone call her Naomi--was asking. Sam’s heart leaped. Cas. It was Cas, Cas would help him--

 

Cas looked at him and looked completely desperate.

 

“Cas.” Sam called out. “Cas, it’s me. Sam.” Low, steady, quiet. Cas understood things more easily when Sam was gentle, and Cas was confused now, being given an order by someone he trusted to hurt someone he lo--was friends with, damnit, a crush was just a crush, Winchester. “Are you okay?”

 

Cas said nothing. He just looked at the angel blade in his hand.

 

This place stunk of--glory GLORY they are above you DO NOT FORGET--the place was an angel place, too-bright and sterile and full of chambers. Sam knew the people who’d jumped him when he’d gone on a pie run for Dean had been angels. But what the hell was going on, Sam didn’t know that.

 

“Cas?” Sam asked cautiously. Stupid, Cas wasn’t going to hurt him--

 

“Now, Castiel!” Naomi snapped, and Sam flinched, it was too loud and a woman’s voice maybe, as much as angels had gender, but there were memories there and before Sam could move through the tangles of his mind to smooth them free Cas was there, next to him.

 

Cas struck him in the face.

 

***

 

It was just a slap. Just a...test. Castiel had no idea what he was doing. How did you break someone?

 

And he didn’t want to break him. He loved Sam.

 

Blood was the ultimate sacrifice.

 

Maybe that was how, Castiel realized. Maybe he had to make Sam a sacrifice. He wanted to ask, but Naomi would punish him for asking. Castiel wasn’t a fledgling, he should know this.

 

Sacrifice. How did he make Sam into a sacrifice?

 

Castiel was halfway reaching for his blade when the emotions set in beneath the logic puzzle of trying to figure out the instructions, and still kept going, because this was only an illusion, Naomi had built an illusion of Sam for him.

 

He held the illusion by the shoulder and considered where to carve.

 

“Cas. Cas, please, listen to me.” Fear was in the illusion’s voice now. Just like the real Sam. How interesting, Castiel tried to force himself to think, but maybe this was part of the lesson, too. Maybe he was supposed to feel the pain.

 

Castiel pushed Sam’s shirt out of the way--the illusion’s breath hitched, fear and pleasure together from him, not the same way Sam felt when they hugged, these were emotions so vast they almost made Castiel flinch--and then pressed his blade to the illusion’s stomach. He couldn’t show weakness. Couldn’t keep hesitating, keep going slow.

 

He began carving the name of God into Sam’s torso.

 

Sam grimaced and fought not to scream, and it got a bit easier. By the time Castiel was done, it was dripping blood, and Sam’s head lolled forward, his teeth gritted shut.

 

Cas stepped back and looked to Naomi.

 

She raised an eyebrow. “Break him, Castiel.”

 

Castiel looked at Sam.

 

This was going to be harder than he’d thought.

 

***

 

The Cage was worse. Sam told himself that over and over, trying not to scream, trying not to give the feathered dicks the satisfaction--

 

You DARE refuse us our pleasure? You? You insolent worm, you will scream for us, we should not even have to waste our time touching you--

 

Sam tried to shake the memory away and found he was shaking.

 

Cas’ eyes looked cold and hard, but that was probably projection, Cas didn’t emote much. Cas began to hit Sam, just beating him, striking over and over, and once Cas hit the wounds carved into his stomach Sam let out a scream.

 

Cas stepped back so fast it was like he’d teleported.

 

Then Cas...shuddered, some sort of weird mirage-like image that was Sam’s brain trying to make sense of something. For a minute Sam didn’t understand.

 

Then he did.

 

Naomi had reached out with her Grace to strike Cas for jumping.

 

“Stop it.” Sam had no idea where the voice was coming from. “Stop it! He doesn’t understand what you want, you stupid--”

 

Naomi turned on him, then. She flew to him and pressed her hand against his heart and suddenly her Grace filled the world and it was inside of his soul, inside of him, and Sam wasn’t aware of screaming but when he came back to himself he was trying his damndest to curl up, pull away.

 

“Castiel. Break him.”

 

Cas was there, then, and the angel blade was out, and then Castiel smashed the butt end into Sam’s kneecap and the world exploded in pain.

 

***

 

He kept screaming.

 

Castiel tried cutting his tongue out, to stop the noise. Naomi only healed it and struck Castiel again, telling him to stop being so weak, it was only noise. It was unbearable, the screams of Sam’s soul. It corresponded with Sam’s body, enough so Castiel had thought damaging the body might damage the soul the same way, but it was too loud, too pained, too much in Castiel was screaming to stop and try to help.

 

“Cas...Cas, please, stop…” Sam begged. He was weak and in pain, and Castiel still hadn’t broken him. How did you break a human?

 

Castiel couldn’t ask for instructions. Couldn’t ask for help. He had no idea what to do and no matter what he did it would be wrong and he’d be in trouble--he struck Sam, hard, very hard, shouting, “Stop screaming!” because it was all he could think to say.

 

And Sam stopped.

 

...that was...that was good. Castiel liked that. He could...maybe he could…”No more screaming.” He told Sam firmly.

 

Sam nodded.

 

Naomi was happy. Satisfied. Castiel sensed that. So that was what Castiel was supposed to do. Castiel considered Sam. He should check to see if it had worked. He drew his blade down Sam’s arm.

 

Sam gritted his teeth and stayed silent.

 

...Okay. That was good.

 

“Good job.” Castiel told him. Praise was part of how you trained people to do what you wanted. “Good job, Sam. Thank you.”

 

Naomi snorted. “Why are you thanking him? He’s a human. He should be thanking you for the privilege of your attention.”

 

Castiel nodded. He reached for Sam’s face, to bring his attention back to Sam, but Sam was already murmuring something, low and unclear. Castiel frowned and listened more closely.

 

<...praise, praise unto you, this one loves you, this one is sorry, please, this one is worthless, please…>

 

It wasn’t true Enochian. It was a human’s interpretation, missing sounds and pauses and Grace, but it was understandable.

 

<Sam, look at me.> Castiel ordered.

 

Sam fell silent and looked at him.

 

<He defied you.> Naomi pointed out. <He spoke, when you had forbidden that. You cannot break him if he shows will.>

 

Castiel hesitated.

 

Naomi did not strike. She came up behind Castiel instead. <Look at the Abomination.> She ordered. <Look closely, Castiel. He is so sinful. Filled with will and rebellion. But he does not pray for that, does he?>

 

Castiel studied Sam. He had heard Sam’s prayers before; prayers for strength and hope and the courage to persevere. To do the right thing.

 

<He must be taught.> Naomi explained to Castiel. <Taught to obey the will of Heaven. You can teach him, can’t you?>

 

Castiel considered that. Teaching. He was an angel, meant to teach and guide mankind. He...he could teach…

 

He tapped Sam’s cheek, asking for his attention. Sam gave it easily. <This is punishment, Sam.> Castiel explained. <Do you know why?>

 

<This one is worthless.> Sam referred to himself the way an outcast would, someone cast away from God’s light. <This one deserves it.>

 

<No. I am punishing you for speaking when I told you to be silent.> Castiel said firmly. Then he considered Sam. What would be an apt punishment…

 

There were other things in the room, beside the angel blade. Castiel took one of them. It was a whip, made the same way angel blades were. Castiel raised his arm and struck. Once for each word. He was careful not to draw blood, but by the end Sam was struggling not to scream.

 

Castiel was about to praise Sam when he remembered he shouldn’t. He petted Sam’s face instead.

 

Sam shuddered.

 

***

 

Naomi knew.

 

She knew the second Sam flinched, and Sam knew how bad of an idea that had been, every time he had pulled away it had only given Lucifer and Michael ideas, but he couldn’t help it. Forbidden to scream, he couldn’t express himself any other way.

 

Naomi stepped up behind Cas. <He has given you a way in, Castiel.>

 

<What way?> He sounded so much like Cas, like the trenchcoat-wearing, confused, naive angel that Sam could have sworn had some angelic version of autism and gave great hugs and rambled about bees when he lost his mind trying to help Sam. So much. Sam wanted to cry, but he was frozen.

 

Naomi reached out and pulled Sam’s shirt up.

 

Sam flinched, hard, pulling away, but that was wrong, he shouldn’t flinch, and then Naomi’s hands were touching him and all Sam could think was that he was going to throw up on her from pure disgust.

 

<Like that.> Naomi explained.

 

<...I don’t understand.> Castiel said.

 

Naomi sighed. <He loves you, Castiel. He wants you. The way humans mate. So give him what he wants.>

 

Castiel understood.

 

And then Castiel was coming closer and Sam was forbidden to speak and then Castiel’s lips were on his and no, no, he never wanted it this way, never wanted Castiel, only Cas, only the sweet innocent naive man who loved more fully than Sam knew was possible, not the warrior of the Lord who was strength and stone and coldness…

 

But then Castiel was pulling away Sam’s clothes and Sam was shuddering, fighting his whimpers. Silence. Castiel wanted silence. Castiel was God now, Castiel was Master, Castiel owned him--

 

<Please.> The word came out without thinking.

 

Castiel backhanded him. That was good. That was better than...Sam suddenly let the words spill out, praying Castiel would only beat him, only torture him. <Don’t do this. Castiel, please. You know me. I’m Sam Winchester. You’ve hunted with me. You’re my friend, my brother-in-arms. I-- >

 

Castiel covered his mouth. Castiel’s eyes were shut, and he looked almost...pained. <Enough, Sam. Do not give yourself more punishment than you can take.>

 

Sam laughed.

 

It wasn’t a normal laugh, it was something broken that burst out of him and nearly collapsed into sobbing. Castiel picked up the whip again, and then fire exploded across his back, and this was better, so much better, Sam would take anything other than Castiel using his body.

 

And then all too soon it stopped.

 

***

 

Sam needed to be taught. Needed to be brought into line with Heaven’s will. He prayed for it.

 

Castiel pressed a kiss to Sam’s lips again, gentle and careful, a promise he would not hurt Sam. Sam shook, had been shaking but now all of him was retreating, pulling away, trying to escape.

 

Sam’s shirt was torn off, laying shredded on the floor. Castiel took off Sam’s jeans now, slowly enough to let Sam see that he wasn’t going to hurt him. He wasn’t. Teach, not hurt. Castiel was teaching.

 

Castiel didn’t want this. He hated touching Sam like this. It was strange, if he’d thought about it even a week ago he would have wanted nothing more than to kiss Sam, kiss the man who had brought down Lucifer and fought through endless pain and forgiven even Castiel, who had sinned so greatly against him, but this felt wrong and disgusting.

 

Castiel went a little farther, let his hands explore to discover what made Sam feel, and tried not to think about how bad it felt. This wasn’t about Castiel. It was about Sam.

 

He went farther.

 

Sam let out a choked sob. Castiel wanted to stop, wanted it with every fiber of his being, wanted so much it almost hurt, but Naomi was there, watching, and all he could do was try to be gentle. Try to give Sam pleasure with the horror.

 

Sam was weeping now. Cas kissed the tears away, or tried to, but his vessel noted that they tasted nasty and salty and that was not the ideal input for a human body. Cas wiped away the tears with his thumb instead, whispering that Sam was good, doing so good for him, he loved Sam so much, this was just to teach him, he wouldn’t hurt Sam, he promised.

 

Sam sobbed and struggled, trying to pull away. He was fighting so hard he was going to hurt himself. Castiel stilled him with a firm tug, then started playing, gentle, very gentle, just enough to make Sam feel good.

 

It was harder than it looked, and complicated, and messy. Castiel had no idea why he’d ever thought this would be a pleasurable activity. But finally Sam was spent and finished crying, just shaking with the effort of silence.

 

Castiel pulled away. There. He’d done it. Sam was broken now, surely.

 

Naomi raised an eyebrow.

 

Sam looked up, and it was a look full of longing and hope and faith, the purest expression of a prayer Castiel had ever seen.

 

Castiel saw how thin the hope was.

 

<Go on, Castiel.> Naomi urged. Castiel didn’t miss that she was preparing to strike him for disobedience.

 

Cas backhanded Sam across the face.

 

And then it was over.

 

***

 

Sam couldn’t remember why he was fighting anymore.

 

Memories of the Cage weren’t the problem; this reality was, where Castiel had him prisoner and would do whatever he pleased to Sam. There was no Cas anymore, no bees or innocence or drinking a liquor store. Just Castiel.

 

And then he felt Naomi’s Grace healing him.

 

He didn’t understand why, and probably never would. He simply let it happen. The wholeness felt strange, as if pain was all that should be. Maybe it was.

 

“Now.” Naomi said. “Again.”

 

 


End file.
